


Isle Of Flightless Birds

by spellboundnora



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Multi, also who likes my twenty one pilots reference for the title, can you spot the maximum ride reference?, here's a hint it's the whole fucking preface of the thing, i had to do a surprising amount of research on this, like trying to figure out wingspans on birds vs humans, nora's old stuff, so much exposition i'm sorry, winged au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:51:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellboundnora/pseuds/spellboundnora
Summary: A winged AU that was formed half out of research, half out of stealing ideas from the Maximum Ride series because I fucking loved those books when I was a kid. It's half exposition, half angst, with a tiny bit of fluff at the end because I only write angst when there's a happy ending. (most of the time.)Patton, Logan, and Roman, like about half of the population, are bird people. Completely normal except the fact that they had a surgical operation as teens fusing their DNA with that of a specific breed of bird of their choice. Virgil is the only human of the relationship, but he has a few big secrets.





	Isle Of Flightless Birds

About half of the population of the world was human; the other half were known as bird-people. Completely normal looking, except for the fact that they had magnificent wings. Bird-people had started appearing after a group of scientists had fused bird DNA with that of a few kids. What had started out as six children became more and more as people chose to finally conquer the skies. Although the process was perfected seven years after the first bird-children appeared, there was one limit: the procedure could not be performed on those over eighteen. This was because it needed to be done before the human body had stopped growing. In most places, parents had their children have the procedure at around age twelve, which was deemed old enough to let the children pick out what kind of wings they wanted; what species of bird they wanted their wings from. About a week after the operation was done, which was a long process of genetic enhancing and bone structure rearranging, little nubs of wings would start growing out of the patient’s back. After six weeks, the first feathers would start forming on small, short wings, and by six months after the operation, there would be fully formed, magnificent wings. Wings for adult bird people ranged from seven feet for those who chose the bee hummingbird, the world’s smallest bird, to 35 feet for any daring individual who chose the wandering albatross, the bird with the largest wingspan of any.

But as for our dearest Patton, Logan, Roman, and Virgil, they were all beautifully winged, except one. Patton, joyful and smiling from childhood chose the happy bluebird for his wings. Logan chose the majestic raven after reading about how smart the birds are, and enjoying the fact that his wings were unassuming, but could possibly look intimidating if need be. And Roman, always drawn to the brightest of stars, chose the well known and flashy red cardinal. His beautifully taken care of wings turned heads wherever he walked, as sometimes he would decorate them with wing ornaments, which were pieces of jewelry that fit around feathers. Wing ornaments oftentimes weighed bird-people down, as they were usually made of metal, but if done tactfully, looked absolutely stunning. And boy did Roman know how to decorate. Virgil, however, had no wings. He was completely normal, a human like any other. He did, however, enjoy wing hugs from the other three, which he thought were the best things in the world. 

The four boys shared a flat together, living in perfect harmony. Patton ran a day-care center, Logan was a middle school teacher, Roman was an actor, and Virgil was a web designer. They were always in and out of the house, especially Roman, whose job often had strange or late hours, depending on which show he was working on. Logan’s hours were pretty normal, as were Patton’s, but Patton didn’t usually get home until around seven-thirty, because the center didn’t close until six, and he almost always stayed to help his employees clean up, even if it meant working twelve and a half hour days. Virgil was the one home most often, being an introvert with a stay-at-home job, but that just meant he’d always be home when one of the others had a hard day and needed cuddles. It also meant he was the one going grocery shopping for the household most of the time, but he didn’t mind, because that just meant he could get as much dark chocolate as he wanted. Another strange thing about Virgil was that none of them had ever seen him shirtless, or even in a tank top. Everyone had seen each other shirtless, because when you live together for a long time, and eventually become boyfriends, you stop really caring about changing in front of people. But Virgil never took his shirt off in front of the others. He was always wearing a hoodie, or a jacket, or a sweater, even when it was unbearably hot out. 

One day, he was sitting on the couch with Patton. Patton was knitting, a hobby he’d recently taken up and found himself to be naturally good at, and Virgil was watching him, absentmindedly running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair and getting lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, a comment from Patton brought him back to reality. “Hey Verge? Why don’t you ever take your shirt off in front of us? I mean, it’s not something that’s required or anything, and we’ll certainly leave you to your own privacy, but I was just thinking, none of us have seen you without a big sweater or a hoodie on. Even in the summer, you don’t ever join us to go swimming, and you never wear tank tops, even when it’s hot out. I don’t mean to invade your privacy if it’s some big thing, I was just wondering.”

Virgil stumbled over his words, face growing red as he tried to come up with come up with an excuse and growing more and more anxious. Patton’s soft blue wings folded around him as Virgil’s boyfriend looked at him with concern. “It’s not a big deal, hon, if you don’t want to tell me, it’s alright.”

Finally, Virgil managed to find his voice. “I have scars on my back. Huge ones, all over, and it makes me really self-conscious. I just think they make me look really ugly.” 

He wasn’t lying, but he also wasn’t telling the whole truth. But, to his relief, Patton bought it right up. “Oh, Verge, you shouldn’t have to feel self-conscious about that! I’m sure they look beautiful, in fact, some might even say you look cooler because you have battle scars now.”

Virgil let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I could see Roman saying something like that. He’s such a dork in that way. I appreciate it, but it’s just my own thing. I just don’t like the way they look.”

Patton gave a reassuring smile. “Okay, if you say so, but don’t feel like you have to hide them. You can wear a tank top in the summer, and you should, because we don’t want you to overheat.”

After Virgil promised he would, he retreated to his room, where he started to cry. He hated lying to Virgil, but it was a necessary evil.

—

It was a spring afternoon when Roman asked him a question that he wouldn’t forget. The two of them were the only ones home, with Logan and Patton still being at work. Roman didn’t have play practice that day, so the two of them had just finished watching their second Disney movie, and Virgil was helping Roman put on some gold wing ornaments, as Roman was planning to go out later with some of his acting friends. He’d asked Virgil to come, but Verge had declined, saying that he had to work later. That day, as Virgil was running his hands through Roman’s stunningly soft feathers while clipping on his jewelry, Roman had absentmindedly asked him a question. “What kind of wings would you have, if you could pick? I mean, I’m sure there’s a reason you didn’t get wings, but just out of the blue, what kind of wings would you like to have?”

Virgil fidgeted, trying to dispel the anxiety welling up in his chest. “I think I’d be a Purple Martin. They’ve always been my favorite type of bird.”

Roman turned to face Virgil, looking at him quizzically. “I’ve never heard of those. What do they look like?”

Virgil pulled out his phone and showed Roman a picture. “They’re a type of swallow, I think.”

Roman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, they’re beautiful. I can’t believe none of my friends at the theater have these, they’re astounding! Quite the show-stopper, aren’t they?”

Virgil sighed. “Well, it might be because they’re hard to find actually purple, most are a kind of iridescent blue.” He blushed, realizing how nerdy he sounded. “I’m sorry, I’m such a nerd. When I was a kid, I wanted to know every species of bird so I could tell who everyone was. I thought that would help me get to know people. Anyways, what would you be if you weren’t a cardinal?” 

Roman leaned back against the couch, his winging jingling softly. “That’s so cute! I wish I could’ve met kid Virgil, the bird nerd. I don’t know, I quite like the cardinal, but if I could choose anything, I think I’d be an angel.”

Virgil gasped. “An angel? But those are so rare! You could get sick and die, or you could get killed! Why on Earth would you do that?”

Angels were the only kind of bird-people who weren’t just a species of bird and a human combined. Angels were one of the rarest kind of bird-person, with only one existing for every million humans and bird-people. Angels were first created when the process of creating bird-people was still being perfected. It was the first and only look into combining species. An angel was a combination of a white dove, a snowy owl, a white peafowl, a royal pigeon, and a swan in an effort to create the perfect white plumage, looking almost angel-like. But it was impossible to master a combination of species with already unstable human DNA, so while some people with angel wings came out just fine, others got extraordinarily sick with a condition that was named Caelo disease, from the Latin word for heaven. It was where one’s DNA would begin to unravel because of complications to its structure, and almost always lead to death. Soon, most countries outlawed the angel procedure, although there were still a few where it was legal to be done, so if you had enough guts, or were vain enough, you could risk death to look beautiful. And beautiful people looked. So beautiful, in fact, that it was said angel feathers could cure sickness, and soon enough, small groups of criminals, usually humans, began killing angels for their feathers. Angel feathers, on the black market, could fetch up to a thousand dollars for a long feather in perfect condition, with no spots. The angels that remained would live their lives in fear of being killed, although some would say it wasn’t worth it and have a doctor amputate their wings, living freely as humans, although heavily scarred.

Roman shrugged. “Hey, as long as Caelo didn’t kill me, I would do it. Angels look so beautiful, I once worked with one on a show and they were the most stunning person I’ve ever met. And do you really think I’m afraid of criminals? I can hold my own against anybody.”

Virgil shuddered at the thought of Roman trying to defend himself, but tried to play it off. “Roman, you saw a spider in the shower and screamed so loud, the neighbors stopped by to see if we were okay.”

Roman pouted, his tough guy facade broken. “Hey, that was a spider. They’re terrifying. We were talking about humans. I can fight a human,” he said, jokingly.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sure you can, Roman. Wanna make some popcorn?”

“You know I do!”

—

Virgil didn’t know why Logan, of all people, had dragged him to a rooftop pool party. Well, technically, it was Patton’s idea, but it was Logan who asked him to come, saying that he needed to get out of the house. Apparently, it was Patton’s work friend’s boyfriend’s birthday, and there were tons of people here, a few of which, Patton said they would know. There was Patton’s work friend, of course, a human with hair the color of Logan’s raven wings, whose name he didn’t catch. He seemed extraordinarily nice, if not a tiny bit overwhelmed by the number of people who’d shown up. His boyfriend was always around him, a snarky and sarcastic boy with beautiful golden wings that matched his curly brown hair, which he said were barn owl as the others introduced themselves and their species of birds. It was common for bird-people to include the species that their wings came from in an introduction. It was just like telling someone your name, or age to them. Virgil wondered what that was like, to be so at ease with your biology that your wings were just another fact about you.

He was sitting in a deck chair, watching Patton splashing Logan in the pool when he noticed a bright yellow flash in the corner of his eye. He turned to look and saw a girl a few years younger than he was, with shoulder-length brown hair and short yellow canary wings. Ah, finally, someone he knew! She was another friend from Patton’s work and had come over from work after a kid threw up on her and she needed a shower, but her house was a 20 minute commute to the center. Patton had offered, of course, they live right around the corner of the daycare, and she’d accepted. He always went out of his way to help people, which was probably why his employees loved him so much. She’d ended up staying for dinner that, and Patton talked about her a lot. Apparently, the two were good friends. Virgil decided to get out of his chair and go talk to the girl, who was leaning on the railing on the edge of the roof, drinking a lemonade. He walked over to her, to which she turned and waved at him. “Good to see a face I actually know around here.”

“Oh, hi! Virgil, right?”

“Yep, and you’re Dodie, Patton’s best friend.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say we’re best friends… I’m sure he has better friends.” She was blushing a bit. If he wasn’t a flaming homosexual, he’d even say she was cute.

“Come on, he talks about you all the time!”

“Really? Wow, I never would’ve assumed he thought of me as more than a work friend. He’s nice to everybody, so I figured whenever we’d hang out at work or get a coffee after, that it was just standard for him.”

“No way, man. You’re right that he’s nice to everybody, but I guarantee he thinks of you as one of his “besties.” We hear all about you whenever my boyfriend hangs out with you.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were in a relationship with him. It’s you, him, Logan, and… Roland?” He laughed at this. Once he told Roman, his ego would come down about twenty notches. Though maybe he shouldn’t tell him. Dodie seemed nice enough, and it was just an honest mistake. Roman could hold a hell of a grudge.

“It’s Roman. It’s okay though, he does have a kind of unusual name.”

“Ahh, sorry! I’m terrible with names. You’re right though, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone named Roman. Though now that I think about it, isn’t he an actor? I think I saw his name on a poster at the theater. Roman Princip, right? Or is that a different Roman?”

“Nope, that’s him. Roman, the big shot actor.”

They made small talk for a while, about how he was wearing a bomber jacket in the middle of July, about Dodie’s sister, who was going to get her wings in a month, and about a variety of other aspects. Every so often, Virgil would glance around, wondering where the others were, and he finally spotted them. Logan was inside the little sunroom that was on the rooftop, talking to a friend of his that he’d first met when he’d come to Patton’s work to drop some stuff off. All he knew was that the two were friends, and that their name was Talyn, and they were a purple hummingbird-person. Roman was by the bar, talking to a human named Joan that worked with Patton, but had also been in a show with him. And Patton was still in the pool. 

But soon, it started to drizzle, just-noticed grey clouds letting out small drops of water, which caused a lot of the bird people to rush inside the little sunroom, not wanting to get their feathers wet. Because it was possible to fly in the rain, but stay out too long and your feathers would get wet and heavy, preventing you from flying. Plus, it took a long time to dry soaked feathers off. He knew this because Roman had come home from rehearsals completely soaked once, and they’d had to use multiple hair dryers to get him dry. But Dodie didn’t go inside, and neither did he. He had no reason to go in, and she said she didn’t mind the rain, plus, she wasn’t flying home, so she’d be fine. But a small drizzle turned into pouring sheets of rain that blurred vision and soaked those still out there. Except Virgil was fine, having a bomber jacket made out of polyester, which just so happened to repel the rain. He and Dodie decided to go in when the winds started picking up; she’d said she might get blown away, jokingly, because she really was quite small. Her now-soaked canary wings really fit her personality: small, bright, and cheerful, and he almost gave her his jacket, but knew he couldn’t. What if someone saw through his t-shirt if it got wet? His anxiety started to spike as he walked back, the wind blowing directly towards him and the rain seeming to fall sideways. He got so lost in his own anxiety, that it was a minute or two before he checked if Dodie was still behind him. Almost as soon as he turned his head to face her, she slipped on the rain-slicked rooftop and started to fall backward. But her wings unfolded when she slipped, trying to balance herself, and got caught in a particularly fierce gust of wind. She was a few feet up in the air, but wouldn’t stay that way for long, her rain-soaked wings beating but unable to keep her up. Time seemed to pass in slow motion as he ran towards her, hoping to catch her in her fall before she hit the rooftop, while she was panicking, trying to stay airborne so she wouldn’t fall and possibly break something. Virgil ran towards her, and without warning, a gust of wind caught her and threw her over the side of the rooftop, where she started to fall. She was screaming, “MY WINGS DON’T WORK, THEY’RE TOO WET! SOMEBODY HELP!”

And Virgil, without thinking, threw off his jacket, climbed over the railing, and jumped off the roof. 

—

Patton was in hysterics. He knew the moment he went out there to try to get them, his wings would be soaked, and there was not a single person who could fly well in the rain. A few people, including Logan, volunteered to try and grab the both of them. They left the sunroom, and Patton sunk down into a ball, thinking nothing except that Virgil and Dodie were both dead. His boyfriend and one of his best friends. In the same day.

Roman was desperately trying to comfort Patton. Kneeling down, Roman tried to console him, telling him that Logan and the others would get the two of them, while trying to hold back tears himself. He didn’t believe a word he was saying, and eventually stopped fighting the tears that came. The two of them watched out of the glass walls of the sunroom.

Logan was so afraid. He was afraid that he and the two others that had volunteered to go out wouldn’t be able to save them. He was afraid it was too late. He was afraid his wings would get too wet as well, and that Patton and Roman would lose two boyfriends that day. He wasn’t afraid of dying, he was just afraid of not having his boyfriends around, all three of them, so he went out into the pouring rain, to save Virgil.

—

Out of the three of them, it was Roman who noticed him first. Logan had his head down, trying to make it through the pouring rain to the edge, and Patton had his head between his knees, sobbing. An eloquently worded interjection of surprise left Roman’s lips. “What the ever-loving FUCK?”

Patton lifted his head and couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought it must be a dream, a hallucination caused by grief. That the two of them had to be lying dead, on top of a car perhaps, or on the road. Because what he was seeing couldn’t, in any universe, be real.

Logan knew it was real. As soon as he lifted his head to the sky, he understood so much. His anxiety about his clothes, always pulling his shirts down and never wearing any tank tops, or going shirtless. His past, barely touched upon, but they all knew was bad. Because there Virgil was, flying unsteadily and wobbling as he tried to touch down on the roof, carrying Dodie with his beautiful, long, white angel wings. 

—

When Virgil had jumped off the roof, he’d forgotten everything concerning his anxiety about being seen. He’d ripped off his t-shirt, a human one, with no wing holes. His only concern was saving a life. His wings were still fairly dry, but he hadn’t flown in years, so it took agonizingly long to get his bearings and head for Dodie, who was falling fast, trying to use her short wings as a parachute to slow her fall, but failing. He eventually managed to swoop underneath her and catch her in his arms. In any other context, the gesture could’ve been interpreted as romantic, but he and Dodie were simply friends, and barely even that. He barely knew her besides from today and the day she’d come to their flat, but here she was, clinging onto him like he was the most important thing in the world. Which he probably was, at this point. He unsteadily made his way back up to the roof; it was harder now with the added weight, plus his wings were getting wetter and wetter. He eventually made it up onto the roof, almost fell a few feet trying to land, and passed out almost as soon as he hit the ground. The only thing he saw before he blacked out was Dodie untangle herself from him, incredibly gratefully, and Logan rush towards him, Patton and Roman farther behind. Logan gently lifted him up off the rain-soaked rooftop, and all he said was, “Make sure I don’t die, okay?” And he was out like a light.

—

When he woke up, everything was warm, and the only thing he could feel was his wings, which were incredibly sore. And also not pinned to his body like they were supposed to be. He shot up when he realized this, wrapping his wings around himself and opening his eyes. He was in the flat, on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, with Patton, Logan, and Roman, all huddled around him. His memory finally caught up with his anxiety, and he remembered what had happened. He started to cry. He couldn’t do this, it was all out to them now, he was going to get hurt if he went out, someone was going to hurt them to find where he was, he was going to die, they were going to get hurt, everything was out to them now. And the three of them were calming him down, until finally, he was okay again.

“Hey kiddo, it’s good to see you up again. You were out for a couple hours there, we were getting concerned.”

“It was incredibly brave for you to do that. It’s almost like something out of a book, except less romantic, and more terrifying.”

“I can’t believe you did that. I mean, it made sense, but still, that was crazy. Patton tried to get us to bring you to the hospital, but I looked it up and it’s apparently completely normal for this to happen if you don’t use your wings for an extremely long time. Your body goes into a regenerative state where it tries to adjust to using those muscles again.”

“I’m so, so glad to see you guys. I guess I owe you all an explanation though.”

“Only if you’re comfortable. We don’t want to push you.” Patton piped up.

“No, I need to tell this story. I need to get it all out. It all started when I got my wings at the age of twelve, like any other kid. I’d been inspired to get the angel wings by my mother, who had them, and I knew nothing about Caelo, I got them sixteen years ago, and it wasn’t commonly banned or taught about. I was fine, of course, but when I was fifteen, three years later, the selling of angel feathers on the black market became popular. So when my mother and I were walking in a rougher area, we were pulled into an alley by some tough looking humans. My mother stayed calm and tried to give them her purse, hoping they’d be deterred by money, but I was freaking out. I was crying, luckily it was pretty silently, because none of the humans noticed. They pushed us farther back into the alley, until we were against a wall, and… and they- they shot her. Right in the head. And they almost shot me too, but someone heard the gunshot, and my screams, and called the police. Two of them were watching me while the other few, there might have been three or four, were hacking at her wings as she was face down on the pavement. I don’t know why they didn’t just shoot me right after they shot her, but whatever their reason was is the reason I’m still alive. They’d gotten one wing off when the police arrived, and they hightailed it. Didn’t see any reason to shoot me before they did, I guess. Ever since then, I hid my wings. I had to go live in a different state with my Uncle Tom, because my dad died when I was only a few months old, and even my uncle thought I was human because I never showed my wings again. Until today. I’d been thinking of showing my wings to you guys, and I guess it just rubbed off on my decisions, because I jumped without thinking.”

Three pairs of arms wrapped around Virgil as he finished his story, and realized he’d been crying again. He was scared now, but he knew that whether he chose to hide his wings whenever he went out, or show them, that these three would be forever supportive. They fell asleep that way, the four of them piled onto the couch, cuddled around Virgil, and he finally knew what it felt like to give someone a wing hug.


End file.
